


Shattered

by germanic



Series: Walon Vau: A Character Study [4]
Category: Star Wars: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/germanic/pseuds/germanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The loss of Sev is not easy on everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kradeelav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kradeelav/gifts).



He had seen to them being perfect. He had trained them, tested their limits, pushed them the edge, done everything in his power to see that the perfect soldiers were created. This had to be a mistake, somewhere along the lines, the wrong number had been transcribed.

"You never leave a man behind. Never."

Kal's squads had lost more men, they always had. The man had coddled his soldiers, treated them like boys who had the unfortunate circumstance of being in war. He had trained soldiers, boys fast becoming men who would always be soldiers. Their past, present and future would be soldiering. It had been what they were created for, what they lived for.

He had trained them with the best intentions. He had made their lives misery to let them live. He had endured the bruises and broken bones that they gave him because he would expect them to take the same treatment without complaint.

He had never lost a man in combat and he prided himself on that.

Delta had always been intact, a whole fighting force that was not to be dismissed. They were brute force mixed with cunning and skill. They were the best. Where men fell around them in droves, they pushed forward, stepping over bodies, both sentient and droid, never losing sight of their goal.

It was one of the few things that Vau took pride in because, ultimately, of them all, he had trained the best men. And everything that had happened, that had been done. It had all been worth it in the end. The means justified the cost.

But now.

He stumbled into the room, locking it with shaky fingers. How many days had he been out there? It had been long enough that Mird had been run ragged, searching a trail gone cold long ago.

The strill was curled on his bed, dark eyes on Vau. The creature that bounced between pleased and killer, remained still, watching, refusing to make a sound, and all for good reason.

Vau's helmet flew.

The door had barely been locked a second when he had tore it off, heaving it away. It crashed and rolled onto the ground, the visor caught upright, staring back at him. Black and ominous, it echoed the visor that the soldiers wore, their designs meant to mirror Mandalorian design. He kicked it, the sound of breaking screens following as the helmet spiraled away, visor facing the ground this time.

Pieces of armor followed, torn off, fingers desperately trying to pry it away, all the while resolve was slowly breaking, flaking.

He had told them to follow orders, drilled them to listen. He had made them know that death was nothing to flinch at. Death would surround them, drown them, swallow them alive, for that was the way of war. He had made them see that, shouted at them when they showed a sign of fear, of hesitation.

He had made this happen.

They had followed orders, they had left their comrade behind because he had made that second nature to them. And now, he was shaking because of the realization that one of them was dead-

Oh, the report had listed him as MIA, but Vau knew. Had Sev been anywhere on that world, he would have found him, dragged him back.

No, RC-1207 was more than MIA, he was KIA. Dead serving the people who had made him to fight, designed him to be the perfect example of a combat soldier. He had been a base that Vau had molded to be far better than any other grunt. He had been perfected beyond simply being of one superior template, to being the ideal soldier. He was ruthless, effective, and one of the elite.

But he had failed him.

And Vau broke.

For the first time after decades of considering himself better, evolved and above fools like Skirata who wept over the bodies of his men, he cried. He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling like a boy again--ten and being screamed at by his father, a bruise on his forearm, the feeling of worthlessness swimming in the pit of his stomach--so helpless and useless.

Sound came from his throat, never a coherent word, never a wail, rather a shout or scream muffled by an attempt at self-control; the sound of misery.

He roamed the room like this, hands grasping at hair, attempting to regain himself until he collapsed.

He sat on the floor, breathing ragged and strained, at a loss. Need flowed through him, the need to do something, to feel something, to have someone, to hit someone. It overwhelmed him.

Mird lept from the bed in this moment and curled around Vau, resting its head against his shoulder. He drew the strill against him, clinging to the golden creature, unable to focus. He had sworn he would not be attached to those soldiers. That it had always been and would always be just a job. He had not come there to find sons, to find some new hope. He was not Skirata.

He was Walon Vau. Controlled, tempered, balanced. Indifferent.

When he could breathe, when he could think, he took in the chaos. Mird remained close--body warm and head nuzzling his shoulder--and he surveyed the damage done. His armor would require repairs. But it was just that: fixable, repairable-

It was replaceable.

It was everything that Sev was not.


End file.
